Make it a merrier Christmas for women and children at Refuge

As November kicks off, I’m beginning to see evidence of the Advent shopping extravaganza to come. Christmas lists are beginning to be spoken of, and malls are defying the ever-worrying financial climate to start filling up with tinsel, sparkles and shoppers.

Some of us, perhaps because of that financial climate, are beginning to wonder what we really need, and what we merely want. Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting, but somehow waste doesn’t seem as acceptable as it used to.

In the midst of all this commercial to-ing and fro-ing, comes a plea. On Refuge‘s Facebook Page today, I saw this message:

Have you started to buy your Christmas presents yet? Please help to make sure that every woman and child in our refuges gets at least one present this year by supporting our Christmas gift list appeal:

https://www.johnlewisgiftlist.com/ list number 478985.

Gifts start from just £1.50 so please give what you can to help bring some happiness to women and children escaping domestic violence this Christmas. Thank you.

Right now, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather buy a present for.

On Poundland and Twitchforks

I watched with interest this little storm in a Twitter teacup this morning. (I couldn’t bring myself to write Tweacup. Oh, look, I just did.)

To be honest, I found the whole thing pretty disquieting.

Now, generally speaking I wear a poppy. Even when I don’t, I still give to Poppy Appeal at this time of year. I do not lack respect for what the poppies stand for.

But the attacks levelled at Poundland today through social media really disturbed me. “People died for your freedom!” (to be told what to do by a baying mob). “I bet you’d let a Muslim wear a turban!” (Actual, distressingly bigoted and hilariously inaccurate statement on the Poundland Facebook Page that betrayed what, for this man at least, the argument was really all about).

I rarely talk about my faith, or my beliefs, or anything else that is largely a private matter, but I can tell you this: if my work uniform policy told me I couldn’t wear a symbol of support for something that is personal to me, I wouldn’t think twice about removing it. Because symbols are only external props; they do not take away what’s within. And what’s within can also be kept private; not wearing a poppy is not an act of disrespect.

When it comes to charity symbols, I think that they’re a perfectly valid and enjoyable fundraising tool: from badges and pins to Twibbons, people like a way to indicate their adherence to a particular cause and in our private lives I think it’s lovely that we have that opportunity. But, as grateful as I am to generations of soldiers, I don’t see why one symbol should be an exception when others are not. Poundland’s policy was simply to have their chosen charities’ symbols visible, but no others.

To many, the moral of today is that if you kick up a righteous stink, your wishes will be granted. And that’s true. But, at the risk of sounding like Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, with great power comes great responsibility. When we march upon anyone waving our pitchforks over something like this, how long before it all stops being taken seriously at all? I can’t help feeling that if Poundland had dug their heels in, everyone would have forgotten about it shortly anyway (and, really, if they hadn’t gone making statements about it in the first place hardly anyone outside Lisburn would have heard of the story), and they would have discovered that it might not have been as big a crisis as they thought.

I really love that people power has been given a new lease of life through social channels. I just think that when you compare this to using social channels to organise a revolution, we might want to think about whether we’re mindlessly abusing the privilege – and whether we’ll be the Tweeters that cry wolf.

Free papers: a masterclass in misogyny

I gave up women’s magazines years ago. It’s not that I have any vast objection to most of their subject areas, because, you know, I dress appropriately for work, I quite like pretty jewellery and the odd makeup tip for creating a desired look is handy. But I have no time for publications that are going to airbrush women to within an inch of their lives and then tell me that it’s the only acceptable way to look. Furthermore, I don’t like the suggestion that man-pleasing sexuality, obsessive dieting, and dressing ‘for your body shape’ are the only ways to live, especially as that’s not required for men.

So, I gave them up. And for the record I’m probably slimmer, better dressed and more successful than I ever was with their help – and certainly more confident.

After a year’s maternity leave, I returned to the world of commuting and therefore free newspapers and magazines, morning and afternoon, in vast variety and abundance. Mostly these do a useful commuter public service, giving us all something to pretend to be gawping at while we’re watching the person opposite pick their nose, and they can be a useful way of getting to know about events, TV shows, etc etc.

But oh boy. I just don’t think I can read them anymore. I can’t even find it in myself to be all that angry about it all, but twice now I’ve garnered funny looks from forgetting myself and literally facepalming on the Tube. (It’s quite a good way to get some more breathing space).

In the last 24 hours alone, I’ve seen the following:

  • A huge letters page, complete with illustration, with no less than three letters from men all making the identical point that Theresa May’s proposed plans to notify women about violent partners are ‘sexist’ because they assume men aren’t victims of domestic violence. This was much more space than was devoted to the original article about the plans, and is accompanied by letters about how if women get a bit narked for being treated as weak and feeble they should ‘smile and say thank you’ because that’s just chivalry and we HAVE TO ACCEPT IT. (Because they were purposely excluded and this has nothing to do with the fact that this is designed to tackle a situation where ONE IN FOUR women will experience domestic violence, so it might just affect them more.)
  • A woman’s article about her partner staying at home to raise the baby and how she possibly feels a bit bad about this, so feminism should be careful what it wishes for. (Presumably because every woman must feel like she does, and those of us who are able to find a shared childcare model can’t possibly exist.)
  • A comment about the possible pregnancy of a famous actor’s wife which comments that because he already has three daughters he ‘must’ be keen on having a boy this time. (Because girls smell?)
  • An article about famous people from a particular ethnic group. For the three women, the comments were purely focussed on their bodies: one was ’luscious’, one was just a backside and one was only interesting because she posed nude. For the two men (both of which have been sex symbols), it was strictly about their work. (If it’s not necessary to objectify men – and it’s not – then… Oh, I don’t even have the heart to continue explaining.)

And that’s me just sitting here remembering what I’ve been reading. I don’t even have the papers in front of me to pick through them.

What’s really scary is how much of this is just considered matter-of-fact discourse, and can’t even be put down to people trying to be misogynist. They just think this is how life is. Men are serious achievers, women are frivolous decorations. Men must want to populate the world with other men.  When help is offered to women who suffer disproportionately because of their sex, it must have been done to leave men out and victimise them.

Seriously, if you were having a conversation with someone about your issue and they kept talking about themselves, wouldn’t you just feel exhausted by it all?

So, I’m downing tools and giving up the papers again. I lived perfectly happily – happier – without them, after all. And maybe this blog will convince one other person to consider doing the same. And then maybe, as Wayne’s World once told us, they’ll tell two friends and they’ll tell their friends and so on and so on.

Cos really, I’ve seen from one campaign after another that writing to these papers and trying to explain why this is Not Good doesn’t work. Sometimes it’s appropriate to stay in the room and try to yell louder to be heard over the background noise. Sometimes you just figure you should leave the room and let other people make their own decisions.

Toodle pip.

 

Reflections on Ramona: 14 months

Looking back at the 13 month mark, I’m astonished that there’s so much more to note in such a short space of time. People wonder why toddlers have tantrums, but seriously: can you imagine learning so many things in such a small space of time and not getting a bit cranky?

Leaving aside the leaps in physical co-ordination that are happening, it’s language that’s really astonishing me. I suppose because it’s so obvious all the time, and because it’s allowing me an inlet into communication with my daughter. Because one of the toughest things about being a parent is trying to understand and make yourself understood when there is no common language – except for body language, which is so easy to misread - between you.

So, to mark 14 months, as we dart inexorably on to 15 since I’ve been so late with this update, I give you Whiffle’s Baby Glossary. Or: things wot my kid says.

  • Family: Mummy, Daddy, Yiayia (Greek: grandma), Pappou (Greek: grandpa), Ouma (Afrikaans, grandma), ‘Gamps’ (Gramps), ‘Cabbi’ (Casper, the cat), ‘Aki’ (Alex, the cousin). Occasionally she attempts ‘Ramona’, and gets ‘amona’, which is not bad going for someone with six teeth.
  • Animals: ‘Giger’ (tiger), ‘Ca’ (cat), ‘a pi’ (pig). For ‘dog’ she just strokes the picture and goes ‘aaaahhhh’, and all black cats are ‘Cabbi’.
  • Objects and responses to questions: ‘App-ul’ (apple – tomatoes are also apples, apparently), tea, ‘tthhh’ (teeth), ‘appy’ (nappy, said when a change is needed), ca-ca / poo (likewise), ‘out’ (in response to ‘where did you go?’ or ‘in and…?’), ‘up / cup’ (cup), ‘a boo’ (book), ‘up-ah’ (to be picked up – my mother taught her that!), ‘tah’ (star), ‘baw’ (ball), ‘beh’ (bear).

I’m sure I’ve forgotten more than a few, and those are just the regular ones; often she’ll say something once and then put it away for a few days to be hesitantly brought out again later. I guess being around grandparents speaking two different languages and the varied, positive environment at nursery plus having two parents that don’t shut up is having something of an effect on her.

Incidentally, as I’ve said before, I’m really writing this for my own sake, so I can look back at how she was when she was a tot. I’m not tracking her development, or comparing her to others, and for all I know she should have done all this stuff months ago. I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m just a parent, who, just like most other parents, is fascinated by their own child.

Here’s to every single one of us just happening to have the coolest, smartest kid in the world.

My name is Alex, and I’m obsessed with MasterChef Australia

Like, seriously obsessed. I’ve forgotten to watch all but one episode of Glee this season, but I get seriously grumpy when I don’t get my fix of Aussie culinary glory.

It’s just so damn good. And at this point I’d usually link to examples to show you what I mean but I’M AFRAID TO GOOGLE IT IN CASE I ACCIDENTALLY SEE WHO WINS. Which would upset me far more than is reasonable.

I felt relatively smug when I managed to predict the likely winner of the last series, but I’ve just taken a kick to the gut seeing my early pegged winner plunge into an elimination and promptly lose it.

Everything about it is wonderful. The challenges are extraordinarily freakin’ difficult. The guest judges and guest chefs are a brilliant mixture of the Nigellas and the Hestons (both appeared just this past week) and less mainstream but even more stellar culinary superstars. I’m not saying that John and Gregg aren’t brilliant, but how can they hope to compete with a contest that flies contestants to Malaysia for a masterclass with Rick Stein?

Although there is a serious dearth of announcements about cooking not getting any tougher than this, which they should really borrow from us.

Also, there’s a Greek judge. Alright, Greek Cypriot, but when you’re half a world away that’s closely related enough. And they help the contestants when they get stuck. And everyone sobs, and you can’t blame them because you can’t even begin to understand how you make a DESSERT THAT HAS TO BE SPRAY PAINTED WITH CARAMEL.

(You’re going to be doing some Googling, aren’t you?)

Oh, the huge manatee. You can keep your X Factor and your Weasels Got Talent. I know what I’ll be watching.

Feminist Friday: Reverse Sexism

I’ve been meaning to write a Feminist Friday post for a while.

Certainly I have lots of feminist things to say: as a woman, first and foremost, but also as a mother, as a married woman (that I chose to get married and took my husband’s name – for all sorts of not very interesting reasons, I might add – is about a week’s worth posts on its own)… I could write a few essays.

Maybe that’s why I don’t post about it that often; because there’s so much to say I might NEVER STOP. Also, I do write a lot of things for BitchBuzz on that theme, like this piece on the feminist nightmare of children’s TV shows. Or maybe it’s because I feel like sticking my head above the feminist parapet can sometimes be unsafe, and that makes me less active than I’d like to be. Certainly I’ve read enough utterly terrifying and distressing posts about what outspoken feminists are subject to online to make me shy away from stating my feelings about emotive subjects publicly too often.

I do, though, like the Feminist Friday prompt, which helps consolidate my thoughts on a single topic. This week it’s ‘reverse sexism’.

Let me start by defining the term, because on the surface it makes no sense. I don’t think ‘sexism’ (unlike ‘misogyny’) denotes lesser treatment of women per se. If you’re treating a man badly because of his sex or perceived gender, it’s just plain sexism. Nothing reverse about it.

But it’s telling that we think of sexism as just applying to women, isn’t it? It’s telling that we basically know that misogyny is far more common than misandry (a term that, for the record, does not mean the opposite of misogyny; the opposite of misogyny is not hating women). When we say that it’s ‘reverse sexism’, we’re already admitting that we believe there is a privilege imbalance, and that men are so rarely treated badly – as a group, not individually – by society that we even need to qualify the word ‘sexism’ in order to apply it to them.

So what do I think when men are treated badly, or pointlessly exluded or villified? Well, I think it sucks. Because I think it sucks when anyone is treated badly for a stupid reason, particularly something as uncontrollable as an accident of birth. I think it’s bad for men, and I think it doesn’t help women in the slightest either. In fact, I’d argue, most cases of sexism towards men are invariably sexist towards women as well (perhaps because thinking of people as biological sex or percieved gender first and people second is never going to end well).

There seems to be a slight tendency among some women to think it’s funny when the sexist lens is turned on men, or think it’s somehow levelling the playing field. Depicting a man as a bumbling, inept oaf in an ad? Drooling over half-naked pictures of a footballer or movie star? Infantilisation and objectification ftw? Erm, no. And might I just say that ‘Darren’, a commenter on the piece I just linked to explaining my dislike of lazy man-bashing, is possibly the best proof I have that this definitely affects women as much as men; see his pearl of wisdom on housework.

Not only do two wrongs definitely not make a right, but by doing these things we are not bringing things down to an equal footing. We’re merely providing approval for more ridiculous patriarchal nonsense.

For example, when we objectify a famous man, we’re saying it’s okay to use women’s bodies to sell things because we’re using men’s bodies too, rather than asking ourselves if it’s really okay to mindlessly use people’s bodies that way at all.

And when men are portrayed as domestically useless, we’re underpinning the ‘I Don’t Know How She Does It’ trope that insists women can’t have it ‘all’ where ‘all’ is never defined for men. Despite women storming into the ranks of the working world, they still do more than their fair share of domestic labour, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a woman expressing discomfort with the idea of a man getting involved in that domain at home, even though she’s working as many hours out of the home as he is.*  Now, of course for men there’s a payoff into being made to look like idiots here, which is that they don’t have to do housework. So what starts out looking like sexism against them still turns out to hand power over to men. And the worst part is when women start internalising it all, believing that it’s biologically determined that she shalt never fix the drippy tap and he shalt never change a nappy.

I will leave the rant about the limits of biological determinism is for another day (it’s been put much better by Dr. Lise Eliot and Natasha Walter, among others, anyway).

So, maybe the reason why we think of it as ‘reverse’ sexism is just that. That even when we’re putting men down, we still seem to shove women even further down the ladder of equality and respect.

I’d like to make a brief side-note about ‘whatabouttehmenz‘. If you’ve not come across that concept before, in a nutshell, it’s when you try to discuss an issue, in a feminist space, that disproportionately affects women but someone pops up to insist you’re leaving men out. It’s related to the argument that says women-only spaces are sexist.

The thing is, that when those things happen to men they are not less important, or serious or tragic. It’s just that sometimes the same issue can affect different genders in different ways, not because those genders are pre-determined by biological sex, but because of varied upbringing. There might also be cultural reasons why those things happen that differ depending on the group you’re in. So sometimes it can be right and not discriminatory in the negative sense to segregate for the purpose of tackling a major issue. That doesn’t stop men from gathering together themselves and deserving the same respect and attention paid to their issues. And of course, men only spaces are not automatically misogynist.

Naturally, there are many cases when there is no need to separate and standing together is both appropriate and welcomed.

So, there you are. My first Feminist Friday post. It might or might not become a regular occurrence; we shall see.

*Not me. If anything the housework duties are weighted in my favour, and I need to pull my weight more, but that’s not because I think it’s ‘man’s work’ or beneath me or because my husband thinks I’m too stupid to do it, it’s because poo-filled nappies are better avoided if you can possibly get away with it.

This morning, there were bacon sandwiches…

Curtis would understand.